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A TIEY/ BOOK OF ?OEM^ BY GAIxIilE L^EARLEY- 



0opyright,1909 — By Qeorge GoEarley, 













LiSnARY of CONGRESS 

Two Gooies Received 

MAh 23 W^ 

Oopvn^fit Entry 
CLASS CU XXc. !M0. 

COPY a. 




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1 " 




CARRIE L. EARLEY 
1880- 1 go "J 



INTRODUCTORY 

This little volume is printed that the 
verses may be preserved by those to ivhom 
they may be helpful. They indicate the deep 
thoughtfulness of the writer and the serious- 
ness with which she grasped every question 
coming to her. 

So far as known these verses were not 
writte7i with the thotight that they would be 
published. ^ome of them were written in 
her early girlhood. ^^ The Way and The 
Guide^^ was written but a few months before 
the end^ it being her last effort. 

No 07ie who Jznew the author and felt the 
uplift of her pure character^ and 7io one who 
reads this book and receives a nobler impulse 
thereby., will ad^nit that her sphere of use- 
fulness was circumscribed by her few short 
years. The i7ifluence of her life will 7iot be 
measured until the final reckoning^ and in 
that day He zvho makes the record will write 
opposite her na^ne ''''Success.^'' 

The last two numbers printed were writ- 
ten by a brother and sister^ both of whom, 
passed away some years ago. 



poems 



Xlbc TKHais ant) XTbe ©utDc 

I walked through a valley of shadows and fears, 
I was lonely and sad, my eyes blinded with tears. 

The way was so long and my feet were so weary, 
The night was so dark and the path was so dreary. 

Then I said in my heart, "Had I only a guide. 

Had I someone to shield me, to walk by my side. 

Perhaps he might show me a pleasanter way 
Leading out of this gloom to the glad light of day." 

Then I heard a sweet voice, very close to my side, 
"My child, I am with thee, and I am thy Guide, 

Just hold thou my hand, I will show thee the way 
That leads from this gloom to the glad light of day." 

Then I knew 'twas the Christ, and I gave Him my hand. 
And we passed from that gloom to a bright, happy land. 

And I sing as I journey, my tears are all dried. 

For I walk in green pastures with Love by my side. 

B TKHoman's Dceire 

Oh! To be a maiden and beside my true love stand. 
With his strong, right arm around me, and clasping hand in hand. 

Oh! to feel the rapture of his tender, loving kiss, 
With our bright dreams of the future added to the present bliss. 

Just to be a maiden and beside my true love stand. 

Looking forward to the future while we plan it, hand in hand. 

« 

Oh! To be a good wife with a husband's love and care. 
With his true heart beating for me, every joy with him to share. 

Just to lay my life before him in full surrender sweet. 

And to feel that he would trust me, would be happiness complete. 

Oh! to be a good wife with a husband's love and care. 

Walking through the world beside him, and its bliss or woe to share. 



POEMS 



Oh! To be a mother, with my children in my arms, 

And to feel that I could shield them from the world and its alarms. 
Just to plan with him who loved me for the future of our dears, 

Just to fold them and caress them and to soothe their baby fears. 
Oh! To be a mother with my children in my arms, 

Guiding them with love to teach me — shielding them from all alarms. 

Oh! To be a woman, could you find a nobler crown 

Than to be a loving woman if you sought the world around? 

But alas! To be a woman, with this woman's heart in me, 
And to know the joys I covet may never, never be. 

Oh! 'Tis sad to be a woman, and never wear Ipve's crown, 
That grandest gift to woman in all the world around. 

B Stiff "Clpper Xip 

There are times when the heart's well nigh broken, 

There are days when all hope seems to flee. 
When we feel that grief's floodgates are open — 

Not a single bright ray can we see. 
But 'tis then that we need to remember 

There's a gleam in the gloomiest sky, 
Keep a stiff upper lip — though it tremble — 

And a spirit that never says die. 

Have you seen your bright dreams of the future 

Come to naught like a child's house of blocks? 
Did they die a slow death, as of torture. 

Like a vessel that's wrecked on the rocks? 
Build again on a firmer foundation. 

Smother down every heartbroken cry, 
Keep a stiff upper lip — this is patience — 

'Tis the spirit that never says die. 

This old world is so filled with the sorrow 

Of a brother, or sister, or friend, 
Do not worry o'er trials of tomorrow, 

There'll be trouble enough in the end. 
Turn a brave, sunny face to your neighbor, 

You can do it all right if you try, 
Keep a stiff upper lip, sing and labor, 

Have a spirit that never says die. 



POEMS 



Do you feel in your heart you're a failure 

Just because you've done naught to win fame? 
But in Heaven perchance some wear halos 

Whom the world knew not even by name. 
Up and onward! Let others seek glory, 

They never own failure who try, 
Keep a stiff upper lip, read life's story 

With a spirit that never says die. 



•ffowa, ifaireet on Bartb 
(A Song). 

You may sing of the glorious mountains 
And their snow-capped peaks so high; 

I can sing of a sight that is fairer. 
That delights while it rests the eye; 

'Tis the beautiful rolling prairie 
Where the green hills meet the blue sky. 

Cho. — There's a land that is fairer and dearer 
Than any strange country on earth, 

Where the breezes sweep over the prairie. 
In the beautiful land of my birth. 

And the sunlight kisses the green fields 
Of old Iowa — fairest on earth. 

You may sing of the grand old ocean 
When the white sails its breast adorn; 

I am sure there is a sight that is grander, 
In the dear land where I was born — 

When the warm wind ruffles the green waves 
In a field of old Iowa's corn. 

You may sing of magnificent mansions. 

Of the castles on the Rhine; 
They can never bring rest to the homesick. 

For their splendor I do not pine. 
But I long for the little old farm house 

On that dear childhood home of mine. 



TO POEMS 



Zbc Moman's ipart 

Oh, love, could I look once more in your eyes 

Or feel the clasp of your hand, 
The clouds would all go from the cold, gray skies 

And sadness would flee from the land. 
If I only could hear the rich tones of your voice 

As you tenderly spoke my name, 
Its deep music would cause my heart to rejoice — 

My heart that is ever the same. 

Oh love, could I know you are thinking of me. 

It would ease the ache and the smart 
That must ever return when I think of thee 

To wound my loving heart. 
If I knew that you loved me, though far away 

I could sing aloud in glee. 
If my love which follows you day by day 

Need not return void unto me. 

Oh love, if only the silence could speak, 

And could tell you the love I bear. 
Would you think me — I wonder — a woman weak, 

That I wished you that love to share? 
But because I'm a woman my love must hide 

In my suffering woman's heart 
And wait until asked for, or silent abide. 

For this is the woman's part. 



jpatber, IbolD IV^^ IbanO 



A sweet little child at the eventide 

Had wandered far from home. 
And in childish fear the baby cried, 

Alone in the dusk and gloom — 
"Oh! If my papa were only here 

And would only hold my hand, 
'Though the night be dark I'd never fear, 

If papa would hold my hand." 



POBMS II 



And the anxious father who sought the babe 

Heard the plaintive, little cry; 
In his loving arms she was folded safe 

And she said with a sleepy sigh — 
"Oh! Papa dear, I'm so glad you're here, 

Let me keep tight hold of your hand, 
'Though the night is dark, I will not fear, 

If papa will hold my hand." 

So, Father above, I come to Thee; 

I was lost in gloom and despair, 
But Thou hast found me and brought me to Thee 

And Thou wilt hear my prayer — 
"Oh, Father dear, wilt Thou be near, 

So near I can hold Thy hand? 
Though the night be dark I'll never fear. 

If Thou wilt hold my hand." 

B ILetter ffxom U^ome 

Far away from the dear ones and the homestead 

I was forced by sickness to roam, 
And my heart was so lonely and heavy 

When there came a sweet letter from home. 

It was not that the style was so glowing. 
Though each line brimmed over with love — 

That best gift from a Father in Heaven, 
Dropped into earth's homes from above. 

It told me how much they had missed me, 
Those words made the warm teardrops start. 

And a feeling at once glad and joyous 
Sprang up into birth in my heart. 

It told of the old home so happy 

Where as children we once loved to play. 

And the years, long and sad, since my childhood. 
Rolled back like a brief, happy day. 

Back again to that childhood I wandered, 
The dear old farm home came in view, 

Hand in hand with my sisters and brothers 
I played as I oft used to do. 



12 POEMS 



With my fair, golden-haired "baby sister" TW 

I roamed through the meadows at play, 
And we plucked the wild flowers by the roadside 

Through all the long, glad summer's day. 

I could hear her sweet voice raised in singing, 

With the rest of us, songs clear and bright, j 

I could smell the sweet brier by the window I 

In the pure, golden, soft summer night. 1 

I could see the fond face of my mother ! 

So pure and so sweet in its love. \ 
I am sure there's none sweeter in Heaven 

'Mid all the bright angels above. | 

I could feel the kind hand of my father. 

As he laid it again on my brow, [ 

But my tears as they fell, dimmed the vision J 

And brought me once more to the NOW. 

I was still far from home and my dear ones. ( 

Those bright days can ne'er come again, ? 

But their mem'ry will live through the long years, 

Bringing pleasure and banishing pain. j 

That circle of brothers and sisters ! 

Will ne'er be the same as before. 

For the voice of our dear "baby sister" j 

Now sings on a happier shore. j 

But though far away from those dear ones, ! 

Love follows, wherever I roam. 
And though broken, our circle seemed perfect. 

When there came that sweet letter from home. 



Zbc mttle /Hbotber ot tbe XLown 

(In memory of Kittie M. Mulhern.) 

She was only a frail little woman, 

Fragile and gentle and sweet. 
And her lifetime was spent in teaching 

The children who sat at her feet. 



POEMS 13 



She had only one law to guide her, 

Her Savior's own law of love, 
But she followed it well, and as wisely 

As one of His angels above. 

Her days were all given to service, 

Tireless, loving and true, 
And the little ones — how much they loved her, 

And Oh! how she loved them, too. 
She owned neither land nor jewels 

As she toiled to support her own. 
But her sweet life was richer and better 

Than any good queen's on a throne. 

And each day she walked through our city 

So quiet and smiling and sweet. 
That nobody noticed how weary 

AVere growing her poor tired feet. 
But the Savior she loved so dearly 

As she modestly did her best, 
He called her away from the children 

To a glad and triumphant rest. 

So there passed from our little city 

The dear little children's friend, 
And the grown people wept with the children. 

For tliey thought they had seen the end. 
But no! In the future the children 

Will lovingly breathe her name. 
And in manhood's and womanhood's battles 

Her law of love will reign. 

We called her "Our little teacher," 

A name very worthy, I ween, 
'Tis a happier, more blessed mission 

Than can come to any queen. 
But I would bring her a token 

More grand than a laurel crovn; 
Though she bore no children, I hail her 

"Little Mother of the Town." 



14 POEMS 



^be ITnstinct ot Mar 



"All animals fight and will continue to, I think. The better the 
limal, the fiercer and more fatal the instinct." — Joseph Wheeler. 



And can we boast of this, 

Have we naught else to praise, 

This instinct of the brute. 
This crime of other days? 

Has man no nobler trait 

Than this cruel thirst for gore. 
Had peace no laurel wreath 

In all the days of yore? 

Because the eagle rends 
The helpless birds of song. 

Does this make war more grand, 
Or right the awful wrong? 

Because the lion bold 

On weaker beasts doth prey, 
Must that trait govern man 

To rule the self-same way? 

Because our fathers bled 

And earth was bathed in tears. 
Must we keep the custom still 

Through all the coming years? 

Is life of such mean worth 
Man may shoot his brother man. 

Does it pay to spend in strife 
The days of life's short span? 

Are not our Master's words 
To plain to be misconstrued? 

"Love thy neighbor as thyself," 
And "Unto the least do good." 



POEMS 



B June Me^C^ine 



15 



3M'-'S- 



The sky and earth they v/ere wedded 

One balmy, bright morning in June, 
While the sun streamed her blessings upon them 

And each bird sang a soft love tune. 
Oh! Fair was the earth on that morning 

As o'er her the bridegroom did wrap 
A fleecy lace veil of white cloudlets 

And poured diamonds of dew in her lap. 



She blushed with the tint of pink roses 

As he beamed on her, smiling and true, 
She decked her fair self in bride's roses, 

He robed him in mantle of blue. 
The fair face of earth gathered beauty 

From the wealth of her fruits and her flowers, 
She wore a rich robe of green velvet. 

Fresh and new from the recent spring showers. 

High climbed the sun, ever streaming 

His blessings of light on the pair, 
And bluer the blue sky was beaming, 

Brightly smiling upon his bride fair. 
All the zephyrs, the guests at the marriage, 

Bore gifts of the fragrance of flowers, 
While the south wind sang soft in the tree tops , 

And swiftly sped past the glad hours. 



Down deep in the west sank the red sun, 

The birds hushed their songs for the night. 
But sweetly and soft played the breezes 

As faint and more faint grew the light. 
Earth hushed all her voices in rapture 

As high in the east climbed the moon. 
The millions of stars in their twinkling 

Were tokens of love from her groom. 



i6 POEMS 



Oh! Meet it is then that the maiden 

Should wed her true lover in June, 
That month of bright clouds and sweet roses, 

Fair mornings and glorious noons. 
'Tis then that the sky is the bluest, 

'Tis then that the earth's at her best, 
'Twas in June that the sky and earth wedded, 

So June weddings are e'er by them blest. 



/iBotbcr's %ovc 



One evening I sat by the window 

And looked at the cold, gray sky 
Across which the dull clouds were flitting. 

Bringing no light nor joy to the eye. 

But e'en as I looked the clouds parted 
And showed one clear spot of bright blue 

Flecked o'er with bright patches of silver, 
Like a gleam of fair v.eather shown through. 

And it filled me with joy but to see it, 
And it brought this sweet thought to my heart: 

'Twas the blue made the rift in the dark cloud 
And gleamed through, its hope to impart. 

So it's been with my life, when vexations 
" Have shrouded my heart with their gloom, 
Or when pain with a strong hand has held me 
To endure her grim thrall in my room. 

Then thy love. Oh! my mother, hath found me 
And hath pierced through the clouds of distress. 

Till it made me forget all the darkness. 
And conquered pain like a caress. 

So 'twill ever be here, as in childhood. 
Thy smile and thy touch heal all ill, 

None can comfort in pain or in sorrow 
Like thee, and the heart with peace fill. 



POEMS 



Mother says, "All is well, do not worry," 
Mother loves, though all else turn aside. 

Other loves may pass by like the sky's clouds 
But her love, like its blue, will abide. 

And though sorrow or pam may enfold me 
Or e'en death with his gloom may enshroud. 

Mother's love will still shine, cheering ever, 
As shone that blue patch in the cloud. 

Zbc mvet 2)a^ of Scbool 

'Tis in the mild September, 
The sun is warm and bright, 

The air is cool and pulsing 
With golden, mellow light. 

Today my school has opened 
With all its joy and care 

And noisy, laughing children 
Unto the school house fare. 

Within the white walled school room 
Comes buzzing, busy noise, 

The signal of the advent 
Of happy girls and boys. 

The lessons are not perfect, 

'Tis hard to quiet down, 
After that long vacation. 

And mirth in school books drown. 

"But Satan finds some mischief 

For idle hands to do," 
I say, and bid be careful 

And to each task be true. 

My frown I soften for them 
With warmest, gayest smiles. 

And stories that I tell them 
Their interest beguiles. 



17 



i8 POEMS 



If I a gift might proffer 
To linger with the years, 

To smooth all rocky pathways 
And soothe their youthful fears- 

'Twould be that to these students, 
As they leave school and me, 

To study in Life's schoolroom 
Till death shall set them free — 

I'd give them on their entrance 
In Life's great school so stern 

The courage of their childhood. 
That they its tasks might learn. 

For burdens will grow lighter, 
Life's trials they'll overrule, 

If met by such gay courage 
Of the first day of school. 



a melon of Selt 

I dreamed I stood upon a lofty mount 

And peered into a depth which had no end, 
Above my head the thunders crashed and groaned 

While lightnings seemed the gloomy clouds to rend. 
No one stood near me, I was all alone, 

And of my loneliness no tongue can tell. 
Yet I Vv^as unafraid, naught could me harm. 

Though well I knew that endless pit was hell. 

The lightnings ceased at length, then I could see 

For its fierce light had blinded with its glow. 
Then I leaned o'er a strong o'erhanging rock 

And looked into that pit which yawned below. 
"This is not hell!" methought in glad surprise. 

As on my gaze there dawned a pleasant sight — 
Fair maids, and men of noble face and mien, 

With matchless forms like angels robed in white. 



POEMS 



And they were in a theater so grand 

Not the most gorgeous hall of earth could vie 
With it in beauty, and each face was gay 

And a bright hope was in each laughing eye. 
"And is this hell, this beauteous hall of mirth? 

If so where is its woe and dark despair?" 
But then I paused, for slow the curtain raised; 

I glanced that way to see what scene was there. 

"How wonderful!" methought for there I saw 

Fair men and maids in forms like unto those 
Who filled the seats, and yet not like to them. 

For on each face I viewed unnumbered woes. 
"We are your evil passions," so they sang, 

"We left you novv^ and filled your hearts with hope. 
But you, when freed from us, must view yourselves 

As to the world you have been. You may grope 
And strive to free yourselves from our dark spell, 

There is no freedom for those doomed of hell." 

And then began the play — Ah me! such scenes. 

E'en I, though on the rock, drew back alarmed 
And shudder after shudder rent my frame, 

Although I knew that I'd escape unharmed. 
For not the saddest deathbed scene of earth. 

Not e'en the hard fought bloody battlefield. 
Not the last parting of two life long friends 

E'er caused within my heart such woe to steal. 

It was all this and more. Not such deep shame 
As sinful human heart feels here below 

Was e'er enacted on the stage of life. 

These actors played the secret sins that glow 

Within the human heart, where passion's spell 
Has driven all the virtue from the soul 

And vice is left, his flattering tales to tell. 

Oh! Dark and bloody deeds were acted there, 
Such deeds are done on earth at night unknown, 

And far, far darker deeds than ever man 

In e'en his vilest moods has e'er been prone. 



19 



ao POEMS 



And all the passions of mankind when wild 
With hate and malice and unholy lust. 

They took fair human forms, and yet seemed like 
The foulest reptiles crav.ling in the dust. 

My eyes were chained upon the horrid scene 

Forgetful of those lost souls there below, 
But by a chance methought to look at them 

To see how they endured this draught of woe. 
Ah me! The sight of them my heart did rend 

With a far greater pain than felt before. 
The woe of those pale faces was more dread 

Than that scene on the stage of horrid gore. 

"Are these the angel forms that I beheld 

Just now so full of light and joy and love. 
From whom all evil thoughts and deeds had fled 

Making them like to those that dwell above?" 
Ah yes! They were the same, and yet what woe 

And dark despair they felt no tongue could tell. 
For 'twas their better nature made them grieve 

And their best self saw their vile self in hell. 

"Oh! Drop the curtain, close the scene," they cried, 

"You are ourselves, our darker selves we see. 
We lived for self, and now self tortures us, 

If we had lived for others we'd be free." 
Their voices ceased, the thunders pealed again. 

The lightnings flashed and blinded were my eyes. 
And then again I heard their voices clear 

Speak from that pit to reach the darkened skies. 

"Self is a tyrant, she hath ruled us long. 

We sold our souls to her for her bright pelf. 
We cared for none on earth, we strove to gain 

No light, no joy, no freedom but for self." 
I woke — above, the sky was blue and clear, 

The sun bathed earth with his bright golden wealth, 
I felt earth would be heaven if I could learn 

To live for others and deny myself. 



POEMS 21 



Zbc Ibt^^en JScautis 

One day an artist painted 

A picture wondrous fair; 
The colors were most gorgeous. 

The scene of beauty rare. 
The people praised the picture, 

And wept, and smiled to see 
The beauty that his skill had wrought, 

But not content was he. 

For in his mind was imaged 

A scene so grand it made 
The one he painted seem less bright. 

And all its beauty fade. 
And he was sad because the world 

Could not that picture see. 
But its beauty pure and colors warm 

Kept his mind from evil free. 

A singer sang a strain so sweet 

It seemed to reach the skies. 
It brought a smile upon men's lips 

And tears into their eyes. 
And yet the singer did not sing 

The half her full heart felt. 
She sighed because the strains she heard 

Could not all hard hearts melt. 

For, to her ear, some anthem clear 

From heaven seemed to descend, 
And the rapture of those heavenly strains 

With earth's minor chords did blend. 
The song her lips sang touched all hearts 

And stirred them through and through, 
The song she heard inspired her own 

And kept it pure and true. 

If thou seest a beautiful picture 

Or hear a touching song 
That soothes thee in thy sorrows 

Or gladdens thee all day long, 



POEMS 



If some kind word that's uttered 

Can comfort some sad heart, 
'Tis because the thing you see or hear 

Is of some true life a part. 

And would you do a glorious deed, 

Or sing some stirring song, 
Or paint a picture to make glad 

The heart of the passing throng? 
Then know thy heart is a treasure store 

Which thou with beauty must fill, 
But thy greatest effort can scarce suffice 

Just one drop of that beauty to spill. 

Qm Bver {present Sorrow 

Into the heart and soul and life 

Of man, the child of earth, 
There enters much of care and woe 

Which Cometh with his birth. 
But unto every human heart 

That throbs with pain's dark thrall, 
Which binds, and chafes without relief 

Comes Death, and ends them all. 

Then in our weakness, and our lack 

Of light and knowledge clear. 
Our puny strength resists Death's might 

And calls him foeman drear. 
Yet in the thickest of our strife 

'Gainst shame, or grief, or sin. 
We'd fain surrender self to Death 

And bid him enter in. 

And so Death comes and takes away 

The fairest of the flock. 
And taking wand'ring feet, plants them 

On everlasting rock. 
The weary, heavy-laden find 

In him a perfect rest, 
And tender lambs from out the fold 

Find shelter on his breast. 



POEMS 23 



Our tearful eyes which see in death 

An ever present sorrow, 
Would light with joy if they could pierce 

Into the deathless morrow, 
Where earth and all its load of sin, 

Are barred by Death's broad wing. 
Where our sad souls some day may rest 

When Death shall let us in. 

Bprirs ©coDb^c 
Balmy air, with fragrance laden. 

Bare trees, taking on their green. 
O'er the hills a velvet carpet 

Spreading its fresh, dew-wet sheen. 

In the blue sky 'mid the cloudlets 
Smiles the sun through long bright hours, 

But ere long, those clouds grown heavy, 
Bathe earth's green with April showers. 

Nature hides her face in weeping. 

Sighs for April's passing day. 
But through tears out gleams the rainbow 

Ushering in the birth of May. 

IPasBinc; ClouOs 
For days the sun had hid his face 

Beneath the black forbidding clouds of gloom. 
The earth seemed shrinking in disgrace 

And I was looking forth from darkened room. 
Stern nature, mother of a multitude, 

Feigned anger with her favorite child, our earth. 
As if she'd doomed her to a solitude 

Perpetual, gloomy, tearful, lack of mirth. 

But now the sun hath cleared away the clouds. 

The sky hath taken tint of purest blue. 
The earth is smiling forth to greet the sun 

And hope within my breast is born anew. 
All earth, and air, and light, and sun doth prove 

The goodness of the power that reigns above. 
And from my soul, like rays of that bright sun, 

There flashes back reflections of His love. 



24 POEMS 



B /Barcb Da^ 

Through the gray clouds that chase across the sky 

At morn, the sun had tried to pierce 
But weakly failed; a boistrous wind 

Is blowing loud and fierce. 
One scarce would care to walk abroad 

For pleasure, in this furious breeze. 
The earth with snow is spotted, white on brown, 

O'erhead we view the naked, sighing trees, 
This gloomy day in March. 

In that cold sky the gray has changed to silver 

Ere noon, with azure wedged between. 
And the bright sun begins to shed his beams. 

To fleck with golden sheen. 
In pools where snow has melted 'neath our feet, 

We view that sky again, 
And sighing branches overhead 

Have a sweet minor strain, 
This sunny day in March. 

December 

There is snow upon the hillside. 

There's a chillness in the air. 
There are diamonds in the snow bank 

When the sun is shining there. 

There is wailing in the chimney 

Where the wind comes sweeping 'round. 
There is jingling of the sleigh bells 

As the steeds flee o'er the ground. 

Such a charm is in December, 

The last month of all the year, 
That we e'en regret its passing 

And would have it tarry here. 

For the old year in his passing ^ 

Brings a blessed day to earth, • 

'Tis because this old December 
Celebrates a Savior's birth. 



POEMS 25 



And now in the cold December 
All our hearts are touched again, 

At the thought that He here suffered 
Just to bring peace to all men. 

And our hearts are in us sinking 
And with shame our lives we'd hide, 

When we see how far off peace seems 
And that love for which He died. 

Oh! May He who came and suffered 
That He might one pure life give, 

Cause all hearts to cease their hatred 
And just strive in love to live. 

Then the snow of cold December 
A white robe of peace would seem, 

And our earth be crowned with triumph 
When the glittering sunbeams gleam. 

(To my sister Maude.) 

There is a link which binds our hearts 

And minds and souls together, 
'Tis stronger far than kinship's bond 

Or any human tether. 
It is the bond of fellowship, 

That kinship sent of God. 
'Tis firmer than the bond of blood 

That bindeth me to Maude. 

When human souls are thus entwined 

No parting e'er can sever, 
Blood ties bind only in this life. 

But this tie binds forever. 
When souls are bound in fellowship 

Their hopes and aims are one. 
And though this earth may hold few friends, 

Such lives are ne'er alone. 



26 POBMS 



Oh! May that God who bound our lives 

With this and kinship's bond 
Long let them work in sympathy 

Until His rest is found. 
And may He, on thy natal day, 

In this and after years. 
Preserve our tie of fellowship 

Through all life's hopes and fears. 

^be /IRessage of Silence 

As I sit in my quiet school room 

Whence just now the children have gone, 

I feel silence doth speak to my tired brain 
For 'tis good to be weary — alone. 

There are times in this life with its conflicts, 
'Mid its din and the turmoil of strife 

When the heart of mankind longs for silence, 
Thus to muse on the workings of life. 

When the heart of the toiler is sickened, 
When his labors have seemed all in vain, 

When the body and mind are aweary 
With a dullness far sharper than pain. 

When thy faith in thyself is but wavering, 
And thy faith in thy God almost gone, 

When humanity seems not to need thee. 
When thy heart it seems turning to stone. 

Get thee gone to thyself, to be lonely, 

Let the still small voice of peace speak to thee 
Then thou'lt hear in the silence a message 
Like to Christ's message, "Come unto Me." 

Let thy mind wander back o'er thy lifetime. 
Call the hopes of thy youth back to thee. 

Its ideals and its high aspirations, 
Its dreams, and its strife to be free. 



POEMS 



Let thy cold heart grow melting and tender, 
Let thy faith in mankind take new birth. 

Let thy love, broad again spread its pinions 
To encircle each creature of earth. 

Build in that hour new ideals of living. 
Reach still up for the best to be lived. 

And resolve that in future thy striving 

Shall be higher than e'er you have strived. 

Thus the silence will speak to your tired heart 
And inspire it with courage anew. 

And thy life in the day that shall follow 
Seem brighter and better to you. 

IRovember 

The year is dying. 

The winds are sighing, 

All earth looks sad 
And the clouds are dreary. 

Brave heart, be glad 
Though the days are weary, 

Let joy and light 

Make thy whole life bright. 

The leaves are falling, 
The birds are calling. 

They are flying afar 
Where the sun is shining. 

Let hope's bright star 
Drive away repining, 

Our summer is gone 

But joy is not flown. 

The gold is glinting 

The gray clouds besprinting, 

E'en November skies 
Are not always gloomy. 

Let thy thanks arise 
O'er all sadness looming. 

For the year's good cheer 

Has left blessings here. 



27 



28 POEMS 



B Sunni^ Dag 

'Tis a day when God's blessing seems streaming 
In the sunlight so j^ellow and bright, 

As day wanes and its last light in gleaming 
Pours o'er earth its last treasures of light. 

'Tis a day of an exquisite beauty, 

When all earth has been glowing with light 
And when life has seemed more than a duty. 

And when love has been kept within sight. 

Zbtcc Sottas 

Three songs the soul of man singeth. 

When his dreams are the noblest and best. 
When his thoughts are purest and highest 

And his heart is akin to the blest. 
The power of these songs mankind reacheth. 

For their themes are sent from above. 
Their music all mankind uplifteth, 

Their themes are faith, hope and love. 

FAITH. 

Hast thou faith in thy friend or thy neighbor? 

Then he seemeth a brother to be, 
And his good worketh too, for thy welfare 

And his joy will bring joy unto thee. 
Hast thou faith in mankind and their striving? 

Then with them wilt thou strive and wilt see 
That when good has come to thy brother 

Then only can good come to thee. 

HOPE. 

Hast thou hope for this world and its creatures? 

Then for them a bright future thou'lt see. 
And for them thou wilt work to advance it. 

And with them thou wilt yearn to be free. 
Hast thou hope that some day all earth's children 

At the feet of their Father may kneel? 
Then the good of the least thou'lt be seeking 

And his woe or his weal thou wilt feel. 



POEMS 29 



Xove 



What giveth thee faith in thy brother. 

What giveth thee hope for all men? 
'Tis because in thine own heart thou'rt needing 

The communion vrljich comes from a friend. 
What filleth thy soul with these yearnings 

Which maketh thee unlike the clod? 
They come from that best of all blessings. 

From that love which cometh from God. 



September 

There is sighing in the breeze 

As it plays about the trees. 
There are blessings in the light 

As it streams so warm and bright. 
There is cooling in the air. 

There is beauty everywhere, 
Autumn now is drawing near 

For September is here. 

There is pleasure's gay misrule 

'Mong the children loosed from school, 
For the even time has come 

And each child may seek his home. 
There is rest for everyone 

At the setting of the sun, 
And the eve is cool and clear, 

For September is here. 

There's a bright moon in the sky 

'Mong the myriad stars on high. 
All the beauties of its light 

Soothe my tired soul tonight, 
As the babe on mother's breast 

Sinks into a peaceful rest. 
The rest season of the year — 

Mild September is here. 



30 POEMS 



©ne patcb ot ©olD 

It was a gloomy day, methought, 

But glancing at the sky 
My seeking eye a gleaming caught— 

One patch of gold on high. 

The sky looked chill and dreary, 
But that bright spot I saw 

Cheered my eyes which were aweary, 
And seemed the cold to thaw. 

And then I saw the splendor 

Of that dull autumn sky, 
Which lighted up in granduer 

And glory to my eye. 

The skies teach many a lesson, 
And none more sweet and clear 

Than those which show the blessing 
Of a life of beauty here. 

And now this bright thought enters, 

"If in paths of duty drear 
A ray of pure love centers, 

'Twill all this hard life cheer." 

"For love can light the darkest road 

In this tired, busy life, 
Just as that gold caused the dull cloud 

To shine with beauty rife," 

®ne picture 

Oh! That I were an artist. One picture I'd paint! 

Just one picture, of beauty so rare 
It M'ould cheer all the hearts that are ready to faint. 

And would show them that life is still fair. 

I would paint a rich valley in garment of green 
Dotted o'er with great trees towering there. 

Beneath which graze the cattle and sheep which would glean 
Livelihood from the grass growing fair. 



POEMS 31 



On each side of the valley are mountains which tower 

Far up toward the blue of the sky, 
And ne'er o'er them should storms from their threatenings lower, 

Whose terrors the souls of men try. 

I would paint a blue sky such as never before 

Had e'er gladdened the heart or the eye, 
I would paint pure white clouds, v;ith sunlight streaming o'er, 

That would increase their beauteous dye. 

Then I'd paint a fair dwelling with vines growing near, 

With bright flowers of varying hue. 
And gay children there playing that blest home to cheer, 

And young faces all smiling at you. 

I would paint such a picture 'twould make your heart long 

To abide in that spot for all time, 
I would paint such a one that would make you feel strong, 

That a life in such place is sublime. 

©ctober 

Glorious golden month — October, 

All earth seems subdued and sober. 
Summer's scorching days are flown, 

Beauty's left, but heat has gone. 

Sky of gold and blue is o'er our head, 
Golden brown the grass is now spread, 

Cobwebs glisten in the air. 
In the sunlight streaming fair. 

All the leaves are robed in glowing 
Dress, that red and gold is showing. 

Solemn month of dying year, 
Long we'd have thee tarry here. 

And thy message, sweet October, 

Makes my heart subdued and sober; 
Brightly beams our summer here, 

Soon will come fall of the year. 



32 POEMS 



Like the leaves, we'll glow, then wither, 
But like them, not die forever, 

As the breeze their gold will fling 
They'll give promise of the spring. 

Catch the lesson, Oh! My heart, 
That this golden month imparts; 

Clothe thy life in beauty here. 

Then winter's coming thou'lt not fear. 

iLooft TUp! xm inp! 

And wilt thou ne'er be satisfied. 

Oh longing, striving will? 
Thou hast that which but yesterday 

Thou strivest for, but still 
Thou'rt longing yet and will not be 

Content, for now ye seek 
For that which then ye'd only dreamed 

And had not dared to speak. 

And why art thou unsatisfied. 

My struggling, yearning soul? 
Is it because thou plain can see 

Thou'rt still far from thy goal? 
And dost thou find on nearing it 

That it is far away. 
And does is still seem higher up 

Than it was yesterday? 

And shall we e'er be satisfied. 

And would we, if we could? 
If we had naught to yearn for, would 

This life hold much of good? 
And when our hearts are hoping. 

Are we not happy then? 
Will life here e'er seem perfect 

For us, or for all men? 

No sky has e'er been fair enough 
That has not shown a cloud. 

No day has been so happy, that 
No care did in it crowd. 



POEMS 33 



No scene has been so beautiful 
But that some blot did soil, 

No plan has been so perfect 
But our own acts could spoil. 

And always we are longing 

For something which we lack, 
And great deeds we are viewing 

Lie in the upward track. 
And why are we still striving 

And never satisfied? 
We know there are still greater tasks 

Than any we have tried. 

God wants us to be longing 

For all that's high and true, 
'Tis He that plants a yearning 

In the heart of me and you. 
And if we're like Him living 

We're gaining every day, 
Yet still for good we're striving 

That once seemed far away. 

But Oh! In all our yearning 

May we only seek to do 
Some good to all His children 

And teach them to be true. 
May we ever still be looking 

Up to a noble life. 
And may lifting up of others 

Forever be our strife. 

Oh! Great God of the friendless, who cry unto Thee 

In times of distress or despair, 
In this time of my need, draw Thou nigh unto me 

And grant me my most urgent prayer. 

I have erred. Oh! My Father, have mercy on me, 

I have failed in my efforts at good, 
But Thou, God, not thy sons, will have pity on me, 

Thou dost know what they've not understood. 



34 POEMS 



Oh! My Father in Heaven, I've wandered from The3 

When prosperity on me has smiled, 
But now in my need I draw nigh unto Thee, 

Repentant, remorseful — Thy child. 

Thou knowest, dear Father, to do right I tried, 

But my striving it all seemed in vain. 
For mankind see not clear with a merciful eye 

How often they cause others pain. 

Oh! Dear God of the friendless, I need Thee, a friend; 

Earth friends may judge harshly, but Thou 
Art ever the same, a wise, merciful friend, 

Thou wilt pity me now, even now. 

We are proud of our strength in the days that are bright. 

We would walk all too boldly, alone, 
But our strength is so puny, while great is Thy might. 

And we reach for the help that seems gone. 

But we cry unto Thee in our days of despair, 

"Oh! Thou Father look down from above. 
Shed Thy mercy upon me. Oh! Hear Thou my prayer, 

Shelter me from this storm by Thy love." 

So Father, I come in this time of my need 
When men's faces are all turned in distrust, 

In the time of my sorrow, my cry Thou wilt heed, 
"Give me help. Oh! Thou God, Who art just." 



3BirO Xove 

Summer, lazy summer days. 
Earth is hot, the sun's ablaze. 
Sky is blue, with silver clouds, 
Scarlet flowers, drooping nod. 
Birds in branches overhead 
Have forsook their downy bed. 
Twitter love songs all the day, 
Language all of love have they. 



POEMS 35 



Dreaming, I sit 'neath the tree, 
Longing to be like them — free, 

Wondering what such lovers say 

Singing all the summer day. 
What a life for summer time! 
Peaceful, happy birdlings' chime. 

Oh! That one a bird might be — 

Singing, loving, joyous, free! 

World, what are you and what am I? 
Put here awhile to live and die? 

To feel, enjoy, to mourn and love; — 

Ah! This is life; but what's above? 

We only live on this drear shore 

A few short years, then we're no more. 

For what's this life? Just a few fears — 

Then loving smiles or many tears. 

And this is life, someone may speak — 

"A few are strong, but many weak. 
We live this life, we often feel 
We're wounding where we ought to heal." 

Our life is just what we make it, 
Our work is that for which we're fit; 

Then let us do our very best, 

By labor thus we may gain rest. 

(There is scarcely any merit (if any) in these lines. I cannot call 
them a poem. I copy them because they are my first attempt. C. L. E.) 

Butumn %cavc6 

The autumn leaves are falling now 

So bright, so beautiful and dear, 
They cover Mother Earth's fair brow. 

They say that Autumn now is here. 

The golden tint we love so well. 

The scarlet also, just as dear, 
On hilltop and within the dell 

They now proclaim King Winter's near. 



36 POEMS 



Oh! Autumn, thou art beautiful, 
Thy face is cheerful, ever bright, 

Thy beauties they are bountiful 

But Autumn leaves are dearest, quite. 

The bright red sun sets o'er us now, 
We watch the leaves resplendent glow, 

We sit and watch and wonder hov/ 

They get that bright and beauteous hue. 

But the Autumn leaves are very sad, 
They tell us plain their own death poem. 

For though their colors are so glad 
We know the end is soon to come. 

(This, too, I had not the heart to destroy. C. L. E.) 
B CbtlD'9 pica 

Father, be Thou ever near me. 
Keep me closely from all harm, 

Let me ever follow near Thee, 
Shield me safely from alarm. 

Be Thou ever my dear helper, 

Though the way be full of thorns, 

I'll not fear when Thou art with me, 
Thou'rt a calm for ev'ry storm. 

Oh! dear Father, much I need Thee, 
Need Thee more than tongue can tell; 

Need Thee more than mind can think of. 
And I know Thou'lt lead me well. 

Help me still to do my mission, 
Fill me with Thy blessed love. 

Much I need Thy gracious blessing — 
Thy rich blessing from above. 

Now, my Father, take me, use me, 
Use me in Thy service here. 

Let me know Thou art beside me, 
Safely casting out all fear. 



POEMS 37 



21 IRew Sone 

There's a strain of beautiful music 
That sings in my soul at times 

Like a song of the white-souled angels 
Far sweeter than all earth's chimes. 

It comes like the low-toned murmur 

Of a mother's sweet lullaby; 
It comes like a grand, swelling chorus 

Pealing upward to reach the sky. 

Sometimes 'tis a joyful melody, 
Sometimes 'tis a song of praise. 

Sometimes 'tis a mournful cadence 
Like sad mem'ries of long gone days. 

It comes when my soul is calmest 

Yet stirred by emotions sad; 
It comes when my heart is purest 

And cleansed from all that's bad. 

Oh! I would I could catch the music, 
Sing the song for mortal ears, 

But 'tis gone, and the thoughts it leaves me 
Are swimming my eyes in tears. 

1bome jfor Zbc "man^cvct 

Earth weary wanderer, far from thy home. 

Oft do you dream of the dear days gone by, 
Cottage so small and low, sloping brown roof, 

Bending o'er all the blue sky. 
Balmiest sunshine and breezes so soft 

Make home on earth a safe refuge from strife, 
Mother and friends so true, loved faces all, 

Their love the refuge from stern cares of life. 

Poor, weary wanderer, there's for you a home. 

Do you not long for the dear Father's love? 
His love so beautiful, pattern for thee. 

Tenderly shown from above. 
True, noble life you may live here below 

If you but strive to do all you can. 
Live like the One who is pattern for thee. 

Teacher for all of us, meek Son of Man. 



38 POEMS 



Dig TIClai2war& Once 

Oh! Thou of an infinite wisdom 

In Thy home in the faraway skies, 
Dost Thou mourn o'er the woes of Thy children 

Having pity for tears in our eyes? 

And the cries of the weak ones and helpless, 
By the strong and the cruel oppressed, 

Oh! Thou God, in Thy own gracious justice 

Wilt Thou judge for these poor hearts distressed? 

Oh! Thou of an infinite kindness, 

Dost Thou watch o'er the wandering ones here? 
Dost Thou yearn for Thy wandering children 

As a mother for a wayward child dear? 

Oh! Thou of an infinite goodness 

In that home where Thy mercy holds sway, 

Thou art yearning to draw Thine own to Thee, 
'Tis our waywardness keeps us away. 

Oh! Teach us to be as the children 

Whom the love of the mother hath drawn 

To her side once again at the night tide 
Where her tenderness shelters till dawn. 

So Thou, in Thy infinite mercy, 

Would draw all the wand'rers to Thee, 

And their hearts, so sin sick and so weary, 
Safe sheltered and rested would be. 

DcsponDcncs 

A sinking heart, a tortured brain, 
A woe apart from grief or pain. 
An aching void, a longing prayer, 
Of failing cloyed nigh to despair. 

Oh! God above. 

In Thy great love 

Set our hearts free 

From drear Despondency. 



POEMS 39 



A weary soul, a throbbing breast, 
A hopeless soul of peace or rest, 
A dreary waste, a pathless field. 
Thither we haste, no hand to shield. 

Oh! Father dear. 

To sad hearts near, 

Give our souls rest 

Upon thy loving breast. 

Iknow ^b^eclt 

Think soul — and dost thou truly know thyself. 

And couldst thou surely tell 
With clever v.isdoui well 

The mystery of that strange, strange one — thy- 
self? 

Ah! soul, thou art a stranger to thyself, 

Thou dost not understand 
The keeping in thy hand 

Of that untroubled one that is thyself. 

My soul, thou seest the sins of other hearts, 

And judge them when they err, — 
Their hearts are full of care, 

And thou art cruel, knowing not their hearts. 

My soul, I bid thee look unto thyself, 

And judge thine own heart well. 
There's One whom thou mayst tell 

Thy fears. He knows thee better than thyself. 

He cares for all His children, e'en thyself, 

And He can teach thee all. 
He'll hear thine ev'ry call, 

He'll heed thy cry and comfort it Himself. 

EventiDe 

I stood beside the doorway 

Just as the evening fell. 
And watched the changing cloud forms 

That coming rain foretell. 



40 POEMS 



Tliey were large and dark and heavy 
Yet of wondrous beauty full, 

And a strange, untalked of feeling 
Did at my heartstrings pull. 

I love to watch their shifting 

As each a scene would show, 
It seemed that they kept hidden 

Some secret I might know, 
And though I could not read it, 

Nor analyze it well, 
Yet they gave to me a message 

Of which I could not tell. 

And shining up above them 

Arose the evening star, 
With its clear and speechless beauty 

And light that came afar. 
It spoke to me a message 

Vv^ith silent wisdom filled. 
And grieved would I be ever 

If aught of it were spilled. 

I love this quiet night tide 

Just as the evening falls, 
It seems that then the children 

Can heai- the Father's calls; 
For I know that He will lead us. 

Be it night time, be it day, 
And I feel that He will keep us 

Nor let us go astray. 

!io the clouds have told their message. 

If I could not understand. 
And I feel that it v/as written 

V/ith our dear Father's hand. 
So life to all His children 

Seme message sv, eet can hold 
Of the depth and strength and wideness 

Of His wondrous love untold. 



POEMS 41 



And we can learn its lessons 

And strive to serve Him well, 
And feel His love us enter — 

I did when evening fell, 
And I thank Him very humbly 

For His speech with me tonight; 
He'll speak to all His children 

And lead us in the right. 

And though the night has fallen. 

And it is time for rest, 
Some of the glorious calmness 

Has centered in my breast. 
And I feel that this message 

With me shall always stay, — 
He loves me, He will keep me, 

I cannot from Him stray. 

aBroftcn Cbotde 

A poet once dreamed a sweet dream 

Of Vv'ondrous beauty bright. 
He said, "I'll give it to the world, 

The dream I've had tonight." 
The poet tried in words of men 

To show the vision fair. 
But people cried "This man but dreams. 

There's naught of beauty there." 

A singer once heard beauteous strains 

E'en such as angels sing. 
He said, "I'll sing and every heart 

Will then forget its sting." 
The singer sang in notes of earth 

And fitted them to words; 
But people said, "He singeth not, 

Those are but broken chords." 

A woman lived a life of love 

Like that her Master taught. 

She thought "Though weak, still I may show 
His way with beauty fraught." 



42 POEMS 



She lived a life of purest love 

For weak who needed care; 

The people loved but gold and said 
"She would not do or dare." 

The poet's dream, the singer's song, 

The life so filled with love, 
Though counted naught by those of earth 

Were seen and heard above. 
Man sees not as his God doth see, 

He calls pure gold the dross, 
Man treasures up the dross for gold 

And does not know his loss. 

Though man loved not the poet's dream 

And counted it but words, 
And though compared the singer's strains 

To naught but broken chords. 
And saw naught in the life so pure 

And full of love sublime; 
They all were ranked high as the stars 

By the great Power Divine. 

Oh! Thou who in the rush of years 

Are striving to be great 
In things of earth where many fail, 

Crushed by the hand of Fate; 
Pause, Oh! Wilt tnou not pause and think? 

The strangeness of that word — 
God may find greatness in what those 

Called naught but broken chords. 

XLbc JBrave of ®ut OLanO 

(June 26, 1898.) 
Down in the land of Suwannee River, 

Far, far away, 
There's where our thoughts are roving ever. 

There's where the brave boys stay. 
Our pride is in our brave young soldiers 

Who're camping there. 
They know not at what hour they're wanted 

To fight for Cuba fair. 



POEMS 43 



Chorus — 

All their hopes in these words are centered, 

"Cuban liberty," 
'Tis in a noble cause they're marshalled, 

Fighting to make men free. 

Our nation heard a cry for justice, 

A suffering wail. 
Brave men to aid the weak have offered, 

Such men can never fail. 
They're camping in the sunny southland 

Waiting the call. 
Blue — grey, are hand in hand united. 

Can they with one cause fall? 

We love our land of glorious promise, 

Long may she stand, 
And may the cause of truth still prosper 

Throughout our noble land. 
God bless our brave men who have offered 

Their lives for right, 
America still stands undaunted 

For freedom, truta and light. 

Zbc CbllD Xttc 

Are you wearied, sick of living 

In the noisy, dreary ways? 
Are you tired of the striving 

Coming with the hurried days? 
Does this seem a life of longing 

That is all unsatisfied? 
Are you heartsick, full of mourning. 

Tired of each new pleasure tried? 

List to me, for there is healing 
For the heartsick of this life, 

Who've had every tend'rest feeling 
Wounded in the ceaseless strife 

That is called by most tongues, — living- 
Such a word is mockery. 

That is not th6 highest living, 

Life should be more full and free. 



44 



POEMS 



Let me show a picture to thee; 

'Tis but of a cottage low, — 
All the sky is blue above me, 

It is in the sunny glow 
Of a glorious summer even 

Just before the great sun sinks 
To sleep in the western heaven 

And the dew the flowers drink. 

In the blue, blue sky above me 

The tops of the great, tall trees 
Seem to touch that sky above me 

As they rustle in the breeze. 
I am but a child and heed it not 

All the beauteous things above. 
But my heart within, it burns hot 

With the stirrings of that love. 

Picture to tuyself a meadow; 

All the grass is growing green. 
Sunlight here, and there a shadow. 

Now the gleaming flowerets sheen; 
And beyond, there is a woodland 

Clean and vast, and cool and dark; 
Nature used a bounteous gift-hand. 

When our path with trees she marked. 

Home is in that little cottage 

By that meadow and that wood, 
Lessons learned in that wee cottage 

Years gone by are still held good. 
Mother's face is in the doorway 

Patient, tired, yet how sweet; 
She made smooth all the rough pathway 

That might wound our little feet. 

For our life, e'en in that bright day 
Was not free from every trial. 

But our trials they yielded straightway 
To the magic of her smile. 



POEMS 45 



Oh! How long, and bright and merry 

Were those days so long ago! 
Now they're long, and dark and dreary. 

Why is it that this is so? 

In that picture I am seeing 

Is a schoolhouse on a hill. 
All our ignorance is fleeing 

'Neath the magic and the skill 
Of our patient, loving teacher. 

Who's to help us on the road 
Of the royal path to learning, 

And along that road we strode. 

Oh! How much tnat teacher taught me! 

Count it — I could not this day. 
But thou hadst those same things taught thee 

In those days so far away. 
'Twas not all the lore of school books. 

That's forgotten years ago. 
But her smile, her life, her sweet looks 

Ne'er will we forget below. 

Oh! Those happy days of childhood. 

In the brigbt days long since gone; 
Never in the life of manhood 

Shall we hear a world's "Well done;" 
That will fill us full of living 

With the true iife, pure and free. 
There's naught in a life of striving 

Like the childlife, once with thee. 

Do you catch my simple lesson? 

It v/ill not be much to tell 
But in this life is a blessing 

For the one who lives it well. 
And the best life, and the greatest 

Is a life that's full of good. 
Such a life will be the nearest 

To that dear life, our childhood. 



46 POEMS 



Zbc Sptcit of l^edt 

A long, a wearied troubled day, 

All v.ork seemed but to be a drag; 
My body was so tired that day, 

So tired, my very steps did lag, 
And Vv'hen the body's out of tune 

The mind makes discord in its time, 
And all the chords, once in attune. 

Will lose their happy, charming chime. 

I sat me down, heartsick at best, — 

All things go wrong, what use to strive? 
The heart seemed sinking in my breast, 

'Twere scarcely worth the while to live. 
And yet across my troubled heart 

There rose a spirit in my breast, 
A spirit that's at once apart. 

At once the same as rest. 

It was a longing for a new, 

A wider, truer, nobler life, 
A life that's only lived by few. 

And yet may be each lot in life. 
A nameless something I would have 

Within me, to subdue all woe, 
A something that would make me brave 

To do, far better than I know. 

Oh! Spirit sweet, of truth a part, 

I'd bid thee welcome to my breast 
And thou wouldst soothe my troubled heart, 

And cause its waves of strife to rest; 
I'd have thee enter even now. 

Thou sweet and blessed peace called rest. 
Thou art unchanged and thy fair brow 

Shows whom thou enterest is blest. 

Thou blessed spirit, enter me; 

Ah! Now I welcome thee, I know 
If I am hand in hand with thee 

I'll go wherever thou wilt go. 



POEMS 47 



Thou leadest far my mind astray 
From mine own petty care and woe. 

Let me help others, this I pray, 
I must, if I go where thou go. 

"If thou wouldst thine own cares forget. 

If thou wouldst rested be, 
Thou must for others strive, and let 

Their cry for aid appeal to thee. 
Forget thyself, of others think. 

Love others better than thyself; 
Each loving deed will form a link 

In chains of love, which are heart wealth. 

Thus spoke unto my troubled soul 

The soothing spirit I called blest; 
I tried to heed those accents low, 

And found my heart had sweetest rest. 
And then my vision it was clear. 

My heart throbbed gladly in my breast. 
These accents fell upon my ear, — 

"Unselfishness — that is God's rest." 

Success 

There is a magic word that thrills 

Its hearers' hearts where e'er 'tis spoke. 
For each soul works or prays or wills 

That it may gain this prize it hopes. 
'Tis but a little word and yet 

It means much toil and strife and pain. 
And hearts that grieve and souls that fret 

If only they such praise may gain. 

To each it bears a thought distinct. 

To each a different portent holds; 
Renown defines this word, some think, 

To many minds success means gold. 
It is achieving all you hope 

Or work for. That would seem too blest. 
Oh! That some magic door would ope 

To show to us what means success. 



48 POEMS 



If thou hast striven after place 

In this world, caring not at all 
How it came that thou didst v/in the race, 

Or ho\v thou didst cause others fall, 
If thou hast builded up thyself 

On others failure, crushing others down, 
Thou mayst gain fame, thou hast not gained 

Success. Thou hast gained false renown. 

If thou hast striven to make clean 

Thyself, and build a life of good 
To others, while thyself shall glean 

From wheat or tares a sheaf of good, — 
If thou hast given thy best life blood 

To gain the cause thou didst think best. 
If every day thou didst an act of good. 

Then thou hast truly gained Success. 

Mbat moulO 5e6us Do? 

What would Christ do? 
If He were hemmed about with petty care. 

If every day life seemed a ceaseless drag, 
Clogged with monotony like to despair 

And every hour with misery did lag. 
For 'tis the "constant dropping" that wears stone, 

'Tis harder far to quietly endure 
The grind and ceaseless, dreary monotone 

Of weariness, than to sharp agony endure. 

What would He do? 
If day by day He saw His strife for good 

To come to failure, most ignoble, weak — 
And all His strivings high, misunderstood 

By those whose lives not one high aim 'did seek. 
'Tis easy when the blood is fired by zeal 

To accomplish grand results and fame achieve, 
But when alone, unaided in the field, 

'Tis bitter hard, to fall and lonely grieve. 



POEMS 49 



What would He do? 
If all about Him, every day, He saw 

Some evil happen which He could not check, 
If powerless, He felt His heartstrings draw 

With agony, when Might did Virtue wreck; 
For of all disappointments keen. 

The knowledge of our uselessness doth strike 
Most deep, to feel our lives of little use and mean, 

When we would have it pulse with goodness rife. 



What would Christ do? 
Oh! Weary heart that strives to follow Him, 

Groping along the dark and dreary road 
Of ignominious living dull and dim. 

And every moment tottering 'neath the load 
Of hated burdens thou canst not cast down, 

Alone, unfriended, thou art seeking yet 
A higher life than that which is thine own 

And almost in despair dost ask thyself — 

What would Christ do? 
Oh! Weary, heart-sick follower, see His life; 

Observe how low He stooped, anon to rise 
And tower high o'er all of worldly strife, 

And e'en His life was failure in men's eyes. 
Take courage, thou whose life seems most obscure, 

And meekly be content, but still unsatisfied 
With aught that's in thy life not high nor pure. 

Enough, to every thought and act in Him confide. 

What would He do? 
What did He do, who once did sojourn here? 

Not lofty deeds, blazed high on scrools of fame; 
Christ, even He, did pour forth many a tear 

And lived a lonely, humble life of bitter shame. 
Take heart, thou lonely one, and seek to do 

His will, and fear no scornful frowns of men. 
What Christ doth think, that only concerns you, 

Dread only that thou be condemned of Him. 



50 POEMS 



What would Christ do? 
Speak hopeful v;ords to some poor hopeless one, 

Condemning vice in all its winning wiles, 
But gladly welcoming back a penitent son, 

And stooping oft to woo a little child. 
Thou canst do these things, simple though they seem; 

Do not disdain the little things to do, 
Then, though thou sorrowest o'er unaccomplished dreams, 

Comfort thyself — "Thus would my Master do." 

*'3for flone ot "ds Xiv>etb Tflnto Ibimself" 

Think how barren the heart and how lonely the soul 

That here seeketh to live but for self. 
Thou art one, but thou'rt only a part of the whole, 

It is useless to keep to thyself. 
God hath placed in the heart 

Of each child here on earth 
A spirit, which seeks 

For its freedom from birth. 

Seeks for freedom, Ah! true, but 'twere bondage as well 

If no earth friend may share it with thee. 
For how bitter the heart is no language can tell 

When thou feelest none shareth its burdens with thee. 
For that one is but selfish 

Who would live all alone. 
And would feel not the throb 

Of all hearts next his own. 

We have freedom in Christ, He hath said it Himself, 

But He bids us for others to live, 
For a liberty's false that's confined to a few 

And for freedom for all does not strive. 
And our life is a curse, 

If no strong hand we give 
To spread freedom for all 

And for all hearts to live. 

Oh! This world is full of sad hearts that would turn 

With great joy to meet hearts full of love. 
And can we not give it, cause some heart to burn 

With a bountiful share of God's love? T 



POEMS 



Let us give our best treasures 

Not from base Mammon's mart. 
Give faitli, liope and love — 

The rich gifts from the heart. 

Zo /Bbs Ststcr /BSamie 

'Twas nineteen years ago, Mamie, 

Can you recall the day? 
Your second birthday, sister mine, 

I'd lived one week that day. 
Were you philosopher enough 

To in the future peer. 
And wonder where we two would be 

As year succeeded year? 

And did your heart go out in love 
To that Vv'ee, helpless babe 

Who, after years was sister — friend 

To you, that elder babe? 

I, who was then the infant young, 
Had recognized you not, 

My mind had not begun to pry 
Or ponder on our lot. 

And as we grew together, dear, 

And played our childish plays, 
You held yourself responsible 

To the guiding of my ways. 
For I was e'er a restless child, 

My feet would wandering go, 
Straight paths seemed easy for your feet, 

And mild your young life's flow. 

Then as the years above our heads 

Had added knowledge there, 
They stole from us our childish ways 

And planted girlish care. 
Our lives were not all sunshine. 

Though wise and loving friends 
Watched over us with tender care 

From day's dawn till its end. 



52 POEMS 



A sun'oeam here, a shadow there, 

A fleeting childh.ve grief, 
Which dropped from out our rosy youth, 

As falls a withered leaf 
From off a teauteous summer rose 

And leaves scarcely a trace 
Tbat in the rose has been a blight 

To mar its fragrant grace. 

So passed our days of childhood, and 

We fain would call them back; 
V/e almost shrink from heavier cares 

We view in woman's track. 
Yet still there's in our hearts a trace 

Of many a childish trait; 
I vender still and chafe to see 

What in cur pathways wait. 

And as our birthdays come this year 

I almost long to see 
Into the future, for its stores 
In wait for you and me. . 

And yet, whate'er thy life may be, i 

I pray that I may share 
In part, at least, its woes and joys 

As we shared childhood's cares. 

ZmUQbt 

'Twixt the brightness of the daylight and the darkness of the night, 
Comes a time of rest and quiet never felt in morning's light; 

'Tis a time when hearts that weary with the burdens of the day 
Feel the magic of the evening o'er their restless bosoms stray. 

'Tis a time when souls that struggled with the weary cares of life 
Turn to brighter, purer visions of a world with goodness rife. 

Where we'll realize our longings for all the good and true, 

That will soothe this homesick feeling in the heart of me and you. 

As the shadows of the twilight steal about our bodies tired, 
We can feel our inmost being with a nobler purpose fired. 

As the mem'ries of our childhood and the ideals of our youth 

Make us seek again with eager hearts those beauteous dreams of 
truth. 



POEMS 



53 



Dreams that set our heartstrings quivering with a glorious melody 
Which comes only when they're thoughtful and from taints of malice 
free. 

Then how sad and sweet and touching is the music that we hear 
That, inciting us to duty, takes away all selfish fear. 

We regret that mid the day's work we some tender heart did wound, 
That good shafts we should have speeded all unnoticed reached the 
ground, 

But we see the wondrous promise for the future bright and fair 
When the seeds of good we'll nourish and fill life with blossoms rare. 

Oh! Such mem'ries sweet and olden that along our visions steal! 

Making days bygone seem nearer and the present days more real. 
Oh! Such bright dreams for the future when along an upward track 

We shall climb, and scarce a longing look will we pause to cast back. 

In the morn those golden mem'ries with the daylight fly away. 
And the bright dreams for the future we may cast from us astray; 

But they'll come again at twilight at the closing of the day 
And we fain would pray them ever in our full, fond hearts to stay. 

So this day has left a message, as from out our heart it steals, 
'Tis a sense of peace and beauty e'en the lowest creature feels. 

And our day would not be perfect if from dawn till deepest night 
Were no time for thoughtful musing, which comes best with the 
twilight. 

Zbc Sftg TReHecteD 

'Twas but a pool of water, 

I passed one evening by, 
'Twas dark and rank and muddy, 

Unpleasant to the eye; 
Yet in its depth was mirrored 

The clouds of the sky, 

I passed, absorbed in musings, 

Unpleasant musings, too; 
My mind was filled with dreams 

Like that water, dark in hue, 
But my eyes saw there in beauty 

That glimpse of Heaven's blue. 



54 POEMS 



I paused a trice beside it. 

Those bright clouds mirrored there, 
I thought how strange it was to see 

In that place beauty rare, 
For the clouds in that dark water 

Were as those on high — most fair. 

Then I said unto my sad heart, 
" "Tis just the same with thee. 

Although thou'rt full of troublings 
There are rays of hope for thee; 

There are dear ones, true hearts loving, 
Enough to comfort thee." 

'Twas true, blest human kindness 

Spoke to my troubled soul. 
Which by love renewed its love-warmth 

As that low, stagnant pool 
Reflected back the glories 

Which the evening skies enroll. 

Just as that pool of water 

Shovved the beauteous even sky, 

'Tis so our Aveak hearts mirror 
That matchless love on high, 

'Tis the source of all that's blessed 
That comes to you and I. 

And as the sun in power. 

While setting in the sky, 
Had lighted up with glory 

Those brilliant clouds on high. 
And their beauty was reflected 

Is the dark pool I passed by. 

Just so God's love can shine forth 

His children's breasts into. 
And the warm rays therein kindled 

May stir some sad heart through, 
Which can mirror forth a beauty 

To rival Heaven's blue. 



POEMS 



Zh^ JBrotber's JBurDen 

Heap high thy brother's burden 

Ye strong, crush down the weak, 
'•Christianize" e'en if by cannon. 

Such men should be cowardly, meek; 
"Protect" with Columbia's freemen 

The ones ye have bought with your gold. 
Send forth our American soldiers 

To grip v/ith oppression's dread hold. 

What if they do strive for their freedom, 

What right have such slaves thus to strive? 
They are only half-tamed Filipinos 

And fit, like the cattle, to drive. 
Make our country of freemen "imperial," 

Bow thyself at strong Mammon's base shrine. 
But bev/are! For the right is undying 

And "vengeance," the Lord sayeth, "is mine." 

Curse the Spaniard for "rule of oppression," 

Wrest from brave hands the cause they have 
fought 
Long and nobly, and drive out oppressors 

Thyself to oppress those thus bought. 
Ye v/ho fought neath tue emblem of freedom, 

The flag bought in liberty's cause, 
Make that banner the sign of the tyrant 

And defy, neath its folds, God's just laws. 

Thy brother's an hungered, now feed him. 

Aye, feed him the bread of the slave. 
He's athirst, make him drink gall and wormwood 

More bitter to him than the grave. 
He is naked, let thy power clothe him 

With the strong, hated fetters ye wrought. 
He is sick with long struggle with tyrants. 

Visit him with a gift he ne'er sought. 

He's in prison, the prison of darkness. 
Go to him, and shut out Heaven's light. 

He's a stranger, a weak, suff'ring stranger. 
He has groped many years for the right. 



55 



56 POEMS 



Take him in, force freedom upon him, 

Kill or frec^ him, for thou hast the might. 
What l.mow such half-wild men of justice? 
Their V, eck minds can not judge the right. 

Our country is hacked by its millions, 

That wealth must he used to cru:-ih truth. 
O'uT land is ■. eli stocked with brave soldiers, 

The i^trcngest, most fair of its youth. 
T.^ke that gold, make it buy ye a people 

One o bought V ith a God-man's pure life. 
l'r',I-e those youths, make them sacrifice justice 

To crush down those daring its strife. 

Stain the fair life of our beloved nation 

With the blot of a conqueror's might. 
Crush out all remembrance of times when 

Our fathers shed blood for the right. 
These people are children of weakness, 

No pov/er to self govern have they, 
They never have asked thy protection 

Yet ye steal their freedom away. 

Oh! My country, and is this thy burden? 

To crush down the weak ones, though brave; 
Can this be our fair land of freedom 

Which v*ould stoop to a nation enslave? 
Let all true hearts take up the burden 

Of truth, mercy, justice and right. 
Then ye'll dread not to hear in that reck'ning 

'Depait, ye accursed, from my sight." 

IfnDepenDcncc 2)as 

We are dwelling in a country 

Which was once by patriots freed 
From the cruel clutch of tyrants 

Who upon men's freedom feed. 
And we love our glorious nation 

AVhich v/as once named "Home of the free" 
And we long to keep it ever 

The blest "Land of Liberty." 

Lo! It cometh, the day draws near 
W^hen was bought our freedom dear. 



POEMS 



Lons ago our fathers, fighting 

In a just and holy cause, 
Wrote that g^crioiis declaration 

Which seemed part of Heaven's lav/s, — 
"God created all men equal," 

'Tis Plis will that all L'e free, 
Shall His sons forget, endeavor 

To crush others' liberty? 

Lo! It Cometh, the day draws near 
When was bought our freedom dear. 



H DeaD jpiUpino Soldier 

'Tis only a tiny picture 

Of a little brown man who lies 
Appealing to the Father 

With his face upturned to the skies. 
From those eyes, once bright with courage, 

The light of life has gone. 
To the brave heart seeking freedom 

The sting of death has flown. 

That bro'.vn hand which never faltered 

While resisting oppression's might 
Is helpless now, and ne'er again 

Will be raised in the strife for right. 
Those lips which for the last time 

Have ansv/ered their leader's call. 
Will ne'er be oped till on that great day 

He answers the Judge of us all. 

But that brov/n face upturned to Heaven 

Seems thus upraised to plead 
For the cause which, living, he fought for 

And, dying, his brave heart did bleed. 
And thc^e pale lips which, locked together, 

Have conquered the pangs of death. 
Seem to mutely accuse the pow'r he defied 

As long as earth spared him breath. 



57 



58 



POEMS 



21 Dream ot Xove 

One day I sat a-dreaming 

And this is what I saw: 
I saw the heavens gleaming 

With the light of a perfect law; 
I saw the sun a-shining 

And all the sky was blue, 
I saw the bright cherubs twining 

Crowns, which were for the true. 

I saw the sunlight beaming 

On every child of earth, 
I saw its blessings streaming, 

I saw the children's mirth. 
I saw that all were smiling 

And each one's heart seemed gay, 
With joy the hours beguiling 

All that glorious summer's day. 

I saw each mother watching 
With love the children's play, 

It seemed their hearts were catching 
Mirth, from their children gay. 

I saw each father blessing 
His wife and children fair; 

I knew I was but guessing 
Half of the pleasure there. 

I saw all people living 

In peace, each other near; 
They seemed to stop' their striving 

And hold each other dear. 
I saw no ragged people. 

Each one was gaily clad, 
I saw no faces evil 

And not one face looked sad. 

I saw that none seemed weary. 
They helped each one along; 

I saw no toiling dreary 
But all worked with a song. 



POEMS 



I saw no strong one trying 

To crush a brother weak, 
For everyone seemed vying 

Each others good to seek. 

And every one was turning 

Toward One who seemed to lead, 
And every heart seemed burning 

With His great heart to plead. 
I saw that He was folding 

The weakest on His breast, 
And the baby He was holding 

Seemed to find a perfect rest. 

And with one hand uplifted 

He pointed to the sky, 
Where the golden light had shifted 

'Mid those gorgeous hues on high, 
And each voice uprose in singing 

As each glad face looked above, 
And the song set my heart a-springing 
For the theme of their song was "Love." 

And mcthought I joined the singing 
And my voice seemed out of tune. 

And sad thoughts my heart were stinging 
For the song ceased all too soon. 
And I awoke, so sadly weeping 
That my dream could not be true, 

Yet I knew 'twould be out of keeping 
With the heart of me or you. 

For 'tis only v/hen we're loving 

And serving day by day. 
The truth of Christ's teaching proving, 

That He'll live with us alway. 
Oh! That we could but see it. 

That we, "In His steps" must prove, 
And then perhaps we may live it — 

That beautiful life of Love. 



59 



6o POEMS 



TTbe Small anO Zbe ©teat 

I watched the drops as on they came 
A-coursing down my window pane, 
Those crystal drops of April rain. 

They came by twos and threes and fives, 

Like human beings who contrive 

In groups to v/alk throughout their lives. 

While here and there a lonely drop 
Came rushing down, and did not stop 
Till it o'ertook those other drops. 

Then ev'ry drop within the group 
Was merged in one, which on did troop 
Like to some great bird's downward swoop. 

And at the bottom of the pane 

Was nothing but a sheet of rain 

In which all drops were merged again. 

How like, methought, unto that sea 
Which we have called humanity 
That flows on to eternity. 

Where few can do without a mate 
Or kindred soul to share his fate, 
Except the One soul, truly great. 

He passed through this life alone. 
No life of these can touch His own, 
Yet His life touches every one. 

And they who follow in the race 

Upon that stream's smooth, glassy face, 

Find His life only leaves a trace. 

Where He lead, rushing to the sea 
Upon whose breast all they, and He, 
Were wafted to eternity. 



POEMS 6i 



n;be Gbo(ce ot Zbc /Rower 

A Mower went forth with His sickle 

Among the ripe, golden grain, — 
"I need not this wheat in my storehouse, 

I'll return through this pathv/ay again." 

He passed through the green, waving cornfields, 
Whose tassels waved soft in the breeze, — 

"You must bear food for man ere I cut thee, 
I need not such treasures as these." 

And then he came into a garden 
Vvliere the roses and lilies in bloom 

Flung forth to tne sunlight their beauty, 
Wafted out on the air their perfume. 

And He paused by a tall, snow white lily. 
And He cut it from off its long stem; — 

"It shall lie in my bosom," He whispered, 
"And shall glow like a beautiful gem." 

"For I've need of such flowers in my kingdom. 

Their beauty so pure and white 
An emblem shall be of the sinless 

Who dwell in that land of delight." 

But the gardener y^ept the next morning; — 
"Had He taken my wheat or my corn 

So nigh as they are to the harvest 
No need had my sad heart to mourn." 

"Ah! but that fair, white flower, though so 
perfect. 

Would be crushed by the cold winter snows, 
So 'twere best that He cut it so early, 

Though I loved it far better than those." 

"But perhaps if I'm faithful in tending 
And neglect not the care of the rest, 

Some day in a land Vviiere no storms come 
He v/ill place that white flower on my breast." 



62 POEMS 



B Cbrlgtmaa Xettet 

Dear toys and girls of Number Four, 

I've thought about you o'er and o'er; 
The kindly notes you wrote to me 

So long ago, but then you see 
You must excuse me — I've been sick 

Or rd have surely answered quick. 
It did me good to hear from you 

And know that I had friends so true. 

And now it's almost Christmas time. 

For I can hear the sleighbells chime. 
And I suppose you all enjoy 

The snow. I hope each girl and boy 
Will have such fun as ne'er before 

You've had when winter breezes roar. 
You won't have long to skate and slide, 

So swift the seasons from us glide. 

A merry Christmas to you all; 

May Santa down your chimneys crawl 
And fill each stocking to the toe; 

He will, if you are good, I know. 
I send you all my love, and pray 

That you'll be happy Christmas day. 
Let not one child be sad or surly, 

And now goodbye. Your friend. Miss Earley. 

XTbc Ibeart of a (31rl 

Little girl, with the light in your eyes 
And your frolicsome, gay, girlish fun. 

And your chatter of school and of dolls, 
Oh! dear me, how a girl's tongue can run. 

In your games you're a witch, for you can 
Change yourself into whate'er you choose; 

Be a lady with jewels and silks, 
Or a beggar without any shoes. 



POEMS 



To play house is your greatest delight, 
You can bake, you can sew, and to hear 

You a guest entertain, would surprise 
All your friends, 'tis so like mamma dear. 

Playing school is a game that's well liked; 

In this game it's the teacher you'd be. 
And the way that her wisdom you ape 

Is a sight that's amusing to see. 

Some say that j^ou're noisy and rude, 
But it's noise that's like music to me. 
For I once was a girl, and I love 
Your sweet ways and glad frolic to see. 

So stay young just as long as you can. 
Woman's crown will weigh lighter and press 

Like the breath of the spring on your brow 
If you keep that girl heart in your breast. 

B ^farewell 

(Epworth League to Rev. John C. Wiilits and Wife.) 

"Look up" and "Lift up" is our motto 

And it fits very well our goodbyes; 
As we clasp the kind hand of our leader 

The teardrops well up in our eyes. 
But we're proud to look up to an elder 

Who deigned to reside with us here. 
And whose life among us as our pastor 

Made the meaning of those words more clear. 

"Lift up" — those two words on our banner 

Gained a meaning they caught from the life 
Of our pastor, for we felt the uplift 

Of him and his brave little wife. 
And the influence left by their good deeds 

Was as leaven that's hid in the meal. 
For its grown and reached lives that forever 

The touch of that uplift will feeL 



63 



64 POEMS 



'Tis selfish we know to lament it, 

Your passing away from our home, 
But our love and our prayers shall go with you 

As out from our circle you roam. 
So farewell to you, kind friends, we'll miss you. 

Your presence in cur league we'll lack, 
But a place in our hearts v/e will keep you, 

'T., ill Le there should you chance to come back. 



Zbc /Rbessase ot a Sena 



"Jesus, Savior, pilot me," 

Softly did that precious song 
Vv''aft its sweetness on mine ear, 

And it seemed an angel throng 
From their dwelling in the skies 

Had come down to sing to me. 
Bidding all the waves he still 

Of my life's "Tempestuous sea." 

For my heart was very sad. 

All life's waters seemed so cold. 
And my spirit was afraid 

Of their storms as on they rolled. 
When that soft and melting strain 

Bade my spirit trust that Guide 
Who will "Chart and compass" he 

Through each fearsome, swelling tide. 

And though still upon life's sea 

I could hear the breakers roar. 
All my thoughts turned to that rest 

Which shall come upon the shore. 
So, Vvhen died the notes away, 

Of that throng which sang to me. 
In my heart this message lived — 

"Fear not, I will pilot thee." 



POEMS 65 



B flRarcb mail 

Oh! Rude March wind, thou'rt blowing 

O'er the grave of one I love, 
But e'en not all thy moaning 

Will call her from above. 
Ah! I could join thy wailing 

And echo every moan, 
If back 'tv. ould call the dear one 

Who left our hearts so lone. 

But, no, though winds are blowing, 

The sun shines bright and warm, 
And brings hope — that bright rainbow 

Which follows every storm. 
For she, for whom we're mourning, 

In the land that's always day, 
Still points me to the sunshine 

And says "This is the way." 

Then blow, March wind, blow softly, 

Or blow more shrill and wild; 
I'll e'en accept that lesson 

With the meek heart of a child. 
For though within our sad hearts 

The winds of grief may blow. 
Above all shines the sunbeams 

Of God's warm love, I know. 

ZTbe XaD U %ovc :Be6t 

His ways are very winning — 

This lad I love the best. 
Though I'm not sure he loves me 

A whit more than the rest. 
He smiles on all sweet maidens 

Who chance his way to rove, 
And yet I must forgive him. 

For he is my first love. 
Oh! He's a handsome laddie! 

His brow is smooth and fair, 



66 POEMS 



His eyes are dark and sunny 

And black his silken hair. 
He does not knov/ what toil is, 

His hands are soft and v.hite, 
And willing slaves his bidding 

Obey with keen delight. 

Some think he is a tyrant; 

If so his chains I'll wear 
And be a happy victim 

If I his smiles may share. 
To Y, alt upon his lordship 

Would be itself a joy, 
For my heart's in his keeping. 

My neighbor's baby boy. 

To Harpe Smith, age five months. 

XanD ct Sunefcine 



Beyond earth's bitter, agonizing tears, 

Beyond the gloom and sorrow of the years, 

Beyond all doubts and fears that us assail, 
There is a land where love shall e'er prevail. 

Refrain: — 

Dear land of sunshine, where no weeping is, 
Bright home of gladness — land of endless bliss. 

Home of our Savior, blessed land of flowers; 
Toil on, ye faithful — all its joys are yours. 

There dwell those souls that lived here undefiled, 
There dwell those hearts, pure as a little child. 

There rest all those who fought the noble fight, 
There rest the weary in that land of light. 

Faint not, dear soul, although the way be drear 
And great the cross that thou dost carry here. 

Thy Savior knows that thou hast need of rest, 
To that dear home He'll bear thee on His breast. 



POEMS 



Cbree Jawbawftcrs 

Three little Kansas Jayhawkers are they, 

Russell and Justy and Fred, 
Riding stick horses this warm summer day. 

Frisking like colts in the pasture at play, 
Heels just as nimble and hearts just as gay, 

Russell and Justy and Fred. 

Galloping swiftly on sunburned bare feet 

Russell and Justy and Fred, 
Never were three small stick horses so. fleet. 

Ne'er such loud laughter our list'ning ears greet, 
Floating out glad on the soft breezes sweet, 

Russell and Justy and Fred. 

Rollicking fun on each young face so brown, 

Russell and Justy and Fred, 
Could one believe that those faces e'er frown. 

Or think that tears would those merry eyes drown? 
Two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of brown, 

Russell and Justy and Fred. 

Gaily they frolic beneath the warm sun, 

Russell and Justy and Fred; 
Sadly I think that these jays are soon flown. 

For them life's labors will soon be begun. 
God grant they'll labor to earn his "Well done," 

Russell and Justy and Fred. 

DandiUons 

From my window I look on a meadow 
Where, 'neath the warm rays of the sun. 

The cattle and horses are feeding 
And the long silken cobwebs are spun. 

On the pure, vivid green of the meadow. 
Still wet from the recent spring showers, 

Are the dandelion globes, white and fluffy, 
The wraiths of the bright yellow flowers. 



POEMS 



And the sight takes me back to my childhood 
When gaily we tripped o'er the grass, 

And vainly we snatched at the cobwebs 
To catch them as they floated past. 

Or we plucked the pale ghosts of the flowers, 

Admiring the light, fleecy down. 
But one breath from our lips and the white wings 

Were spread on the soft air and flown. 

So now, as I sit idly dreaming, 

Like cobwebs my dreams float away, 

And like the pale ghosts of the flowers 
Are vanished my young hopes so gay. 

©ur Xoss 

'Twas in the bright bloom of her girlhood 
She left us — ^that dear one of ours, 

With one sigh left this earth and its winter 
To enter a region of flowers. 

We would call her not back here to suffer, 
To weep, and know sorrow and sin. 

For we know there v as sunshine in heaven 
When her pure, sweet soul entered in. 

We mourn. Oh! so sad and so lonely. 
Though it's only our loss we lament. 

For ve feel that her life is completer 
In that bright land v. hither she went. 

For earth, vvith its storms and its trials, 

Its burden of sin and despair, 
W^as far too unhappy a country 

For one whose own life was so fair; 

Whose mind was so free from earth's tarnish 
Whose heart was so tender and true, 

Yvliose love was f::o pure and so childlike. 
Whose soul not one sinful thought knew. 

So we joy in our sorrow and mourning. 
We smile tlirough our hot tears of pain. 

And we feel that our loss, though so heavy. 
Is to her and to heaven a gain. 



POEMS 69 



B "Wcw gear's Consecration 

(For Epworth League Consecration Meeting.) 

As we "Look up" to our Father 

At the dying of the year, 
And we thank Him for the favors 

Ke has ever shown us here, 
Let each prayer be for the New Year — 

"May Christ's spirit come to me 
That I may 'Lift up' the fallen, 

Doing it as unto Thee." 

Zbc passing of /BbclkinlcB 

Columbia, bow thy head, 
Don all txxy weeds of woe. 

Salute thine honored dead 
By traitrous hand laid low. 

V/eep, ail ye sons of war, 
One of thy heroes dies; 
He's heard that call afar — 

The reveille of the skies. 

Ye martyrs gone before. 

He comes to meet you there; 

His work on earth is o'er. 
Thy rich reward he'll share. 

Child of America, 

Ye have sore cause to weep. 
You've lost a friend beloved — 

Thy nation's lost its chief. 

XLbc TRcal :f8os0 

Their ways are not the most polished, 

Their faces not alvvays clean. 
Their hair and their hands and their linen 

Not the neatest that ever were seen. 

They often forget to say "Thank you," 
'Tis seldom they think to say "Please," 

But how can a boy who is busy 

Take time for such trifles as these? 



70 POEMS 



They'd like very much to be Indians 

At war on a far western plain, 
Or e]:-.e they would be the brave soldiers 
To rout and dereat them again. 

Their hearts are as wild as those Indians 
Yet tender and steadfast and true, 

They never desert a companion — 
Rejoice if they're friendly to you. 

So here's to their bright, happy faces, 
Tiieir games and their barbarous joys, 

For home would be dark and school dreary 
Without them — our true, merry boys. 

XLo 3':b6\c*b J8ab^ Girl 

Her papa's name is Golden, 

Her mamma was a Wing — 
'Twas in the days of olden 

Ere her life found its king. 

Since then a little cherub 
To their fond hearts doth cling; 

She seems to them a seraph 
Or Cupid on the wing. 

And now their love is perfect 
And proudly their hearts sing. 

Since Jcsie Catharina 

Flevv in on "Golden- Wing." 

®ur ipromiseD Hand 

Have peace, sad heart; thou canst not right that wrong. 

Though thine each throb may cause thee blood to weep 
^t sight of children whom the Master loved 

And bade His brave disciple "Feed my sheep." 
Ah! They are sore neglected, sore abused, 

Their sweet young longings held of no avail; 
Though their great wrongs may cause thee bitter pain, 

To right them by thy tears thou canst but fail. 



POEMS 71 



Be brave, weak heart, though all of life look dark. 

Though strong o'er weak doth rule with iron rod, 
Though man makes man an equal of the brute. 

That man was made in likeness of our God. 
Be brave, weak heart, pause not although thou faint 

And falter by the wayside but to die; 
Thou art but one in many, do not hoiie 

To right all wrongs, be brave till bye and bye. 

Rejoice, sad heart, thou needst not always weep 

At sight of his neglected little ones. 
They will be cared for in His ovvU good time, 

He'll wipe away their tears and right their vv'iongs. 
Be brave, weak heart, for He vvill give thee strength; 

His love all force of man defies, 
He'll lead thee out of thralldcm to that land 

Where love and freedom, as He promised, lies. 

®10 ^folks' E)as 

Why do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 
Hearts don't grow old if the heads are gray; 

Hearts only grov/ softer and warmer and mild 
And more like the heart of an innocent child. 

Every year that they beat they grow more like the ones 
In that kingdom where Jesus shall speak His "Well done.' 

Why do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 

"Their eyes have grown dim," do I hear someone say? 
Ah! Yes. But just think what those dim eyes have seen 

Of that beautiful land where the pastures are green, 
They've had visions — I'm sure — of those streets of pure gold 

In that city whose glory can never be told. 

Why do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 

While our eyes sadly linger on hair that is gray — 

That snow on the heads of these grandparents dear 
Is a symbol that unto my eyesight is clear — 

For white is the crown He gives here to the old 
Whose crown in that country will be of pure gold. 



72 POKMS 



Wliy do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 

Their voices are feeble, their songs are not gay; 

Ah! Well. Though they may not the glad anthems raise 
They can sing very sweetly the old hymns of praise 

That bring peace to the heart and tears to the eyes, 

And I've not the least doubt they'll be heard in the skies. 

Why do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 

Their steps, do they falter along on the way? 

Ah! Yes, but they've traveled so long on the road 

And they've tottered so long 'neath a burdensome load. 

They have earned for themselves the blessing of peace. 
They've a right now to rest and from toil find release. 

Why do we call it the "Old Folks' Day?" 

Because 'tis a word that we young like to say. 

It brings to our minds a sweet picture of those 
Who have fought life's stern battles, Vvho now near the close; 

As they sojourn among us, Vve'd like to be told 

That we may be like them, some day when we're old. 

B 6. B. 1R, Song 

Down in the land of cane and cotton. 

Long years ago. 
Ne'er will those dark days be forgotten 

While we are here below. 
We then vvere young and strong and sturdy, 

Our youth we gave 
To keep the stars and stripes untarnished 

And our fair land to save. 

Chorus — 
All the days were dark and dreary 

For the boys in blue 
But, though our hearts were sad and weary. 

We to that flag were true. 

From farm and shop o'er all the northland 

We heard the cry 
And answered "We are coming, coming 

To fight, to win or die." 



POEMS 73 



We fought to save our flag — "Old Glory," 

We heard the call, 
And many times on those fields gory 

We saw our comrades fall. 

Chorus — 

Soon with them we will be united, 

Our ranks are small, 
And every year there's more responding 

To our great Captain's call. 
But centuries will hear the story 

And praises tell 
Of those who fought beneath "Old Glory.' 

'Mid fire and shot and shell. 



Brawin' l|)cuv ipicture 

Two eyes brimming over with mischief has he. 
As he sits on a box and he smiles back at me; 
"I'm drawin' your picture," he chuckles with glee. 
And he uses his crayon quite boldly and free. 
If the portrait don't flatter, those eyes flatter me; 
He's the kind of a boy it's delightful to see. 

There's a three cornered hole in the crown of his hat — 

Though it's foolish to mention a trifle like that — 

And his hair's sticking through it, it will not lie flat 

Without lots of brushing and many a pat. 

And a boy when he's playing has no time for that. 

Was his face clean? Well, really from just where he sat 

It only looked sunburned and tanned — what of that? 

And the button that's lost at the neck, vvhere below 
The brown chest shows through seems just meant to show 
How "Old Sol" loves to kiss with his kindliest glow 
Those who love his caresses, from whence light doth flow, 
And He's painted that boy brown, with sunbeams to show 
That nowhere is found on the round earth below 
Such sunshine as you'll find in a boy's heart, you know. 



74 POEMS 



There are great gaping holes in the toes of his shoes. 

And a patch on each knee — you can see if you choose, 

Placed there by his mother, no other can use 

To such an advantage her needle. Don't lose 

Sight of that smile — it's a cure for the blues. 

Those red lips are enough to an artist enthuse 

And his teeth are like pearls — Oh, well, that's no news. 

"I'm drawin' your picture," he tells me once more. 

With that light in his eyes that I've seen there before; 

So what do I care if the picture is poor? 

On my heart is a picture that pleases me more. 

'Tis his face, and those eyes with delight running o'er. 

And that innocent smile — "Oh! God, I implore, 

Let its purity shine on that face evermore." 



^^ Sweetbeart in ©IC) Santa 3fe 

There's a quaint and ancient city 

Down in New Mexico, 
Where lives a maiden pretty, 

And Oh! I love her so. 
Her smile is gay and witty, 



Ref. — Down in the land of manana, 

In quaint old Santa Fe, 
Lives this bright little Mexicana 

Who with my heart doth play. 
'Twas there that I wooed and won her 

One glorious summer day. 
And she whispered softly "8i, senor," 

My sweetheart in old Santa Fe. 

I'm going ba,ck soon to see her 

And claim her promise true. 
Through the old fashioned streets we'll wander 

Under the sky so blue, 
Or up on Fort Marcy we'll clamber 

And there our fond vows renew. 



POEMS 



I know that she's waiting for me 

In her little adobe home, 
I know that a welcome awaits me 

Vvhen back to her side I roam, 
For then we are going to marry — 

Oh! Haste, happy day, to come. 

Zbc Mnc JGirD (A Song) 

Like a bit of blue from April skies 

V/hen the sun is shining. 
Like the soft untroubled hue of baby's eyes, 

All our hearts enshrining, 
Like the petals dark of violets shy 
'Mid the grasses twining, — 
Is this bird of springtime, 

April's tears and smiles. 
Oh! Sweet bird of springtime. 
Tarry still awhile. 

On the trees the buds begin to break 

While songbirds are singing, 
And the breeze the boughs begin to shake. 

Oriole nests a swinging, 
And we know that spring is wide av.ake 
For the blue bird's winging. 
'Tis the bird of springtime. 

Her mild reign is near. 

Soon will come the Maytime 

For the blue bird's here. 

lbeart'0 Base 

Oh! Heart of mine, you should not fret, 
What though the sky looks gray? 

The sun behind the clouds shines yet, 
'Twill rise another day. 

Oh! Heart of mine, you should not sigh. 
What though hope folds her wings? 

She'll stretch them upward bye and bye, 
Until then, why not sing? 



75 



76 POKMS 



Oh! Heart of mine, do not complain, 
V/hat though you oft times fail? 

Just laugh and say "I'll try again 
And this time I'll prevail." 

Oh! Heart of mine, you need not ache, 
Yvliat though life's burdens weary? 

Just fall asleep and you'll awake 
And all the world he merry. 

Oh! Heart of mine, be not afraid 

Nor act the coward's part, 
The world is sad, it needs your aid 

So be a brave, glad heart. 

appreciation 

Once when a child with joyous eyes 

I spied a sweet wild rose. 
And I reached out my hand to clasp the prize. 

That fairest flower that grows. 
But a cruel thorn pierced my eager 'hand 

Till I cried aloud in pain. 
And the sweet rose, unheeded, fell from my hand. 
So its beauty was in vain. 

Oh, 'twas not so much for the pain I cried, 

Although it was sudden and sharp, 
But because at my feet the rose faded and died. 
And the loss grieved my childish heart. 

Once in the days when woman's crown 

First rested upon my head, 
I had a dear friend whose slightest frown 

Could fill my heart with dread;; 
Once in my joy I revealed to her sight 

My greatest earthly prize. 
But she said not a word of friendly delight. 
Cold envy looked from her eyes. 

But 'twas not so much that she envied me, 

Though the thought made the hot tears fall. 
But because I had wished her to share my glee 
And she would not share it at all. 



POEMS 77 



Oft in the days that since have fled 

I have sought some good to embrace, 
By a kindly deed, or a gentle word said 

To bring joy to some sad face. 
But although oft times I have sadly failed, 

It has softened the sting and smart, 
Just to know that my efforts have sometimes availed 
To bring joy to some sad heart. 

For we mind not the pain if we clasp the flower 

Or touch the heart of a friend, 
We forget the sting of our bitterest hour 
In the heart felt "Well done" at the end. 

^be Sbarp morD 

Dear friend, in the time when my heart was vexed 

Did my harsh words cause j'ou pain? 
Ah! Had I the power hovv^ gladly would I 

Recall them to me again. 
For each harsh word I spoke, I'd a kind one say 

To soothe where the sharp one did sting. 
But God Himself, who is wise and good, 

Cannot help me recall a thing. 

So I'll tell you I'm sorry, again and again. 

And you will believe I speak true 
When I say 'twas because my heart was so sad 

That I was so cruel to you. 
And because you seemed strong and I v/as so frail 

I forgot you had burdens to bear, 
I forgot that your burden too heavy would be 

If I forced you to carry my share. 

And because your heart was so true and kind 

It would feel those harsh words the more, 
For I think that my selfishness made me forget 

The fact that your heart could be sore. 
But though God will not let me recall those words, 

He'll forgive, and you'll forgive, too, 
For you know that I loved you although I was vexed 

And spoke words so cruel to you. 



78 POEMS 



IKS^ Desire 

Like a bold bird that soars far above in the exquisite ether, 

Like the voice of a lark when he sings in the sunshiny weather. 

Like the zephyrs that bring the sweet scent of the rose in the June 
time 
Is the longing that thrills day and night in this soul of mine. 

Like the voice of the mother who sings to her babe at the even, 

Like the calm moon that smiles serene on them both from in 
heaven, 

Like the innocent laugh of that babe on the breast of its mother 
Is this gift that I long for and seek, that is like to no other. 

Like the bold bird I'd soar far away from all cares and vexations, 
And the glad song I'd sing would thrill all of the listening nations, 

Like the soft summer breeze I'd speak only of joy and of beauty, 
I'd have people forget that old earth is a place of stern duty. 

To the mother who sings her sweet song to the babe on her bosom. 
To that child sheltered safely from all of life's cares ^nd confusion, 

To all hearts that beat hot with the thrill of a passion or sorrow, 
I'd give balm for the present and courage to face the tomorrow. 

Oh! Father of Peace, looking down on Thy children so weary. 

Only grant me this prayer — let me make some sad life less dreary; 

Lord, let me sow seed in some rich soil, perhaps all unknowing — 
That will bloom and bear flowers which shall gladden men's lives in 
their blowing. 

Malt Bwblle 

I prayed that God would give me 

A place in the world of strife, 
A place to work wuere all might feel 

An uplift from my life. 
But He took my hand and lead me 

To a quiet place apart. 
And He left me there, and gave me 

This message to my heart: 
"Thy work is to wait awhile." 



POEMS 



Then I prayed that He might give me 

A strength that I might do 
Kind deeds to those about me 

E'en though they were but few. 
But He only said "Be patient, 

For thou art frail and weak," 
And He bade me rest, and this message 

Again I heard Him speak: 

"Thou must rest, and wait awhile." 

I prayed for a friend and brother, 

And wept with many a tear. 
That I might go to his rescue. 

But God said: "Nay, tarry here; 
Thy work is to wait and suffer. 

Thou must love and patient be, 
To rescue the weak and erring 

Is not what I have for thee. 
Thou must love, and wait awhile." 

So I'm bidding my soul be patient. 

It was never meant for me 
To do the great work I covet 

Of leading souls to Thee. 
I am willing to wait and suffer, 
To trust in Thy strength alone, 
And in Tuine own time Thou wilt lead him. 
My friend and brother, home. 
I will trust and wait avv^hile. 



79 



8o POEMS 

Zbc Ibavcn ot IRcst 

(By Maude E. Earley.) 

I stood at my window, that bleak, rainy day, 
And watched the dark clouds rolling by; 

But ere I looked long, in rain and wind strong, 
A lost bird was seen in the sky. 

His wings they were weary, his heart it was sad. 

He drew nearer and nearer my pane. 
He was seeking a shelter and haven of rest 

But he sought for that haven in vain. 

He flew to my window; he flew to the eaves, 

And wounded his poor weary breast. 
But he found him no shelter, there seemed to be none 

For a bird that was longing for rest. 

Then I opened my window and stretched forth my hands 
And cried to the bird, "Here is rest." 
My hands they were willing to heal all the wounds 
It had made in its vain search for rest. 

But he paid no heed when I called to him, 

He hearkened not unto my cry, 
But he dashed forth again through the wind and the rain 

And was lost from my sight in the sky. 

How many poor children in paths of despair 

Are seeking a haven in vain! 
For they pass by the best of all havens — His breast, 

Just like the poor bird in the rain. 



POEMS 8l 

(By Wilber L. Earley.) 

We meet, as ripples on the stream of life, 

Awhile we journey side by side. 
But soon, Ah! soon we're torn apart 

And buried in the busy tide. 

Perhaps some memory clings around 

Those happy moments spent together, 
And gladdens the weary march of life 

As sunbeams gladden stormy weather. 

Then not in vain we two have met 

Amid this clomorous, worldly strife. 
For pleasant memories of the past 

Are beacon lights to .Jgher life. 

A face, a smile, a kind word spoken, 

A friendship that will never die, 
These are the fruits of kindred spirits meeting, 

And now, dear friend, good bye. 



INDEX 



A Woman's Desire 7 

A Stiff Upper Lip 8 

A Letter From Home ii 

A June Wedding 15 

A Vision of Self 18 

April's Goodbye 23 

A March Day 24 

A Sunny Day 28 

A Prayer 33 

A Query 35 

Autumn Leaves 35 

A Child's Plea 36 

A New Song- 37 

A Dead Filipino Soldier 57 

A Dream of Love 58 

A Cliristmas Letter 62 

A Farewell 63 

A March Wail 65 

A New Year's Consecration 69 

A G. A. R. Song /2 

Appreciation 76 

Bird Love 34 

Broken Chords 41 

December 24 

Despondency 38 

Dandelions 67 

Drawin' Your Picture 73 

Eventide 39 

Father, Hold My Hand 10 

Fellowship 25 

"For None of Us Liveth Unto Himself" 50 

Home for The Wanderer 37 

His Wayward Ones 38 

H.'.irr's tase 75 

Iowa, Fairest on Earth 9 

Independence Day 56 

Know Thyself 39 

Look Up! Lift Up! 32 

Land of Sunshine 66 

Mother's Love 16 

My Sweetheart in Old Santa Fe 74 

My Desire 78 



November 27 

Our Ever Present Sorrow 22 

One Patch of Gold 30 

One Picture 30 

October 31 

Our Loss 68 

Our Promised Land 70 

Old Folk's Day 71 

Passing Clouds 23 

September 29 

Success 47 

The Way and The Guide 7 

The Woman's Part 10 

The Little Mother of the Town 12 

The Instinct of War 14 

The First Day of School 17 

The Hidden Beauty 21 

The Message of Silence 26 

Three Songs 28 

The Brave of Our Land 42 

The Child Life 43 

The Spirit of Rest 46 

To My Sister Mamie 51 

Twilight 52 

The Sky Reflected 53 

Tny Brother's Burden 55 

The Small and The Great 60 

The Choice of The Mower 61 

The Heart of a Girl 62 

The Message of a Song 64 

The Lad I Love Best 65 

Three Jawhawkers 67 

The Passing of McKinley 69 

The Real Boys 69 

To Jessie's Baby Girl 70 

The Blue Bird 75 

The Sharp Word 77 

The Haven of Rest 80 

To a Friend ^1 

What Would Jesus Do? 48 

Wait Awhile - 78 



iii: 




